The lawyer had hardly spoken to me over the course of the year.
He
lived in Sticksville. You know the place, the one that you had to go to
yourself that time, which was way out of town, not quite in the country,
but not quite the suburbs, not even the outer fringes. It took you
forever to get there and when you finally did, you found yourself
thinking loudly 'why would anyone live way out here?', and the other
person with you said 'where the fuck are we?'. When you mentioned your
trip to your friends, they asked if you had taken a packed lunch. Well,
that was the place the lawyer lived.
So, suddenly after a brief conversation, which
had come from out of the blue, I was being invited to a BBQ at
8.30pm in a few days’ time. Me, being me, said it was too late for me to
eat…. you know, by the time you get there and the BBQ actually starts,
it is at least 10.30pm before you are sitting down to eat. I suggested
that as it was too late for me to eat, that instead I come over for a
drink and chat. He agreed. Upon my asking what should I bring, he said
'washed rind cheese'. Not only had I no idea what that was (apart from
it being food and cheese), I was feeling a little annoyed. I mean, what
part of 'I am not eating' did he not get, and then I am asked to
bring food?! Was this something from his shopping list he had forgotten
to pick up on his latest trip to the shops? Did he want me to pick up
his dry cleaning as well? The next day he called me saying we wanted to bring the
BBQ forward an hour and promised we would not eat late. As I was already
bringing food stuffs he had forgotten to pick up during his weekly shopping
trip, I agreed to eat. Why not?
I went to the Italian deli near my work,…
as their cheese section is HUGE they would surely know what this
washed rind malarkey is. The thing was, they didn't. Instead they asked
what was it for, who was I seeing and what nationality he was (sticky
beaks I know!), The moment I said he was an Aussie they were racists as
all buggery and said 'Give him some provolone,
'they' love it!'. I
replied that I just use provolone on my everyday sandwiches and the hilariously
racist deli lady said, 'yeah but
'they' don't know that and think it's
gold!
GOLD!'. What else could I do? I took the provolone and then headed to the refrigerated section (where milk and dairy is kept) and
saw some soft danish cheeses as well as Camembert and Brie, so I bought
one 'just in case'. Fifteen dollars and a phone call to my brother later and
it turned out that the soft cheeses (yep, those with the washed rind), was what I was meant to buy in the first place.
Maybe I should apply for a job in the Deli? Attitude?-check, sticky
beak?-check! racist- check (aren't we all to some degree?), knowledge of
soft rind cheese- check!
So, there I was driving in 40 degree heat to
the ends of the earth. It was so hot that my car air-con needed it's own air-con. I think I stopped to fill up with petrol twice on the way there..
yeah ok I am exaggerating just a tad, but if my tank like car did not
have such a HUGE petrol tank, I am certain I would have had to have
filled up at least twice!! I did have to stop several times to check my
map, Yes I use a hard copy of the street directory!! I don't trust those
confounded electronic talking maps!!! Once I was with my sister and her
talking GPS had us looping round the block! Give me a compass and map
any day! .. Anyway, finally I had arrived in Sticksville.
The lawyer opened the door and the first thing I realised was that he was shorter than I thought he would be and much older than his internet dating profile stated. Short was ok, in fact he was my height, I was excited as I don't think I have ever dated anyone my own height! I would however normally be annoyed by the lying of ones age, you know the whole foundation built on lies thing.. but as I already knew he was a lawyer...I guess it kind of goes with the territory. Anyway, he invited me in and showed me around his mansion like home. Of course he had a grand piano and, no, he didn’t play.
Apparently it was for atmosphere. When he told me that he had decorated
the interior himself, I wondered if I should have told him not to tell
anyone else that.... At every step in the tour, he told me how much he
had spent on the house, both the ongoing renovations and the interior
decorating.. I couldn't help but say, 'you've really over capitalised
for the area'. He froze for a moment and then mentioned how he didn't
care, as he saw himself dying in the house.. I couldn't help but wonder
when this was going to happen., Was it soon and did he know something I
didn't? After being shown around the mansion for what seemed hours, I
felt like I needed a drink or twenty. My date must have read my mind,
because he suggested we sit down and open a bottle of champagne (which
was followed by several bottles of wine). I don't count other peoples
drinks, but this guy seemed to drink a bottle to my glass. Mind you I
was counting time and making sure the food didn't go on the BBQ too
late... I cannot eat after a certain time you know..it upsets my whole routine!
So there we were,
making small talk, getting to know each other and me being me, I had to
know why it took a year of infrequent chatting to finally decide to
meet...
He: "I've been really busy with work."
Me: " ok...
look don't get me wrong, I am really happy to be here and that you asked
me over, but it kind of came out of the blue and I am a bit surprised
by it".
I should mention at this point that in all the time we have
been chatting, his internet dating profile clearly stated that he was a
SINGLE GAY MALE, but he responded with...
He: "Yes, well
work has eased up a little, and as my housemate has just gone away on
holiday, I thought it would be a good opportunity to invite you over."
Me: 'Your housemate? I didn't realise you had a housemate. How long has
he been here with you?'
He:' Oh.. he and I shared before I bought
this house.'
Me: 'Oh! So is he just a housemate or your partner?'
He:' oh.. well umm.. partner I guess, but we aren't so close anymore.'
Me: 'Hmm.. do you still consider yourself a couple and still share a
bed?'
Yes I do go in hard and fast with my questioning.. take no prisoners I say!!!
He:' ah.. yes.. but we don't have sex as often as we did at the
start of the relationship.'
Me: 'You know that your profile says that
you are single.'
He.. feigning innocence:' Does it?'
Me: 'I am
wondering how your partner would react to being referred to as your
housemate?'
Unsurprisingly he didn't respond to that question. I guess
he knew it was rhetorical. So there I was in Sticksville with
this freaking soft rind cheese and provolone (which cost me $15!) and not sure what the heck was going on.
The next several hours became a quasi counselling session as he talked
about everything that was wrong with his life and with his several
failed relationships, as well as what he saw as being problematic with
this current one. Or should I say with his current 'housemate'? I asked
if he had talked about his concerns with his partner/housemate, and he
replied 'No'. I asked how he expected his partner to know what he was
thinking and feeling if he didn't share his thoughts and feelings with
him... He agreed with this point and said I was brilliant. Despite all the
other issues, at least this man was able to recognise my brilliance! He then
asked if I would come back another day and talk to his partner about
their relationship, as I had with him. I said “Sure” and half joked,
but was mostly serious about how much I charge per hour, in cash.... He
went deathly silent and never mentioned my counselling services again.
By the time we finished talking, it was 2.30am. I said I had better
leave and he suggested I stay over in the spare room, though he referred
to it by name.Yes, the spare rooms had names. Each room’s name
reflected its own
uniquely decorated theme. Uniquely of course meaning ......... (Dear reader, please fill in the blank with your choice of adjective, I'd suggest something like 'hideous' ). Anyway, I lied and said I couldn't stay over as I didn't bring my
toothbrush. Little did he know that the boot of my car has a suitcase
filled with spare clothes, shoes and bits and bobs just in case my date
and I hit it off and we decide that I should move in there and then!
So
there I was driving home from Sticksville in the early hours of the
morning, scratching at the twenty two itchy-as-hell mosquito bites
covering my arms and legs, which were still bothering me a week later.
Though I had been eaten alive as we talked and ate 'al fresco', I
guess I was still a little confused about his situation, and to be
honest, I was still attracted to him and so, I didn't want to be seen
as a complainer and just sucked up the pain of those bloody mosquito
bites instead of asking to move indoors. More fool me......
To add to it all, we never even opened up and nibbled on these bloody cheeses, not even the soft rind one!!
